


Superboy: Jon Kent

by JonKB



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Superboy (Comics), Superman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:36:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29827140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonKB/pseuds/JonKB
Summary: Set in the DC Universe, diverging from before the events of Dark Nights: Death Metal, it focuses on Jon Kent as Superboy as he navigates the world he was dropped in.Brand new adventures, featuring both DCU characters and original characters, the Superboy book we never got.





	1. The Boy of Steel #1: Brittle

**Author's Note:**

> Hello world.  
> This is my very first attempt at writing. Anything. At all, no editors either. Yeah, deal with it.  
> So, basically the premise of this work is to simulate an ongoing Jon Kent Superboy book in prose style, with new chapters being new issues.  
> It diverges right before the events of Dark Nights: Death Metal. If anyone knows me, they also know that like many people I wasn't the most happy with the Bendis run on the Superman titles (well and beyond the age up), so you might be wondering why I am continuing his work? Well, I don't like slash and burn! And I like the challenge to address something I think wasn't explored at all. I'm also a young dude on the internet who has never written before, so don't take this as me saying I'm better than Bendis or anything - dude has more years writing comics than I have lived, it's just that I really didn't like his Superman stuff.  
> I will also avoid retcons as much as I can, I want to work with what I arbitrarily chose to give myself. I do, however, reserve the right to ad things that don't contradict what has been said before and, as a point of diversion, move the story as I see fit going forwards.  
> And yes, I wanted to make it a whole Superman universe but the state Superman was left in is so unwieldy I don't think I have the skills yet.

He enjoyed patrolling Metropolis, and he wouldn’t let the pain bother him. He took the time to inspect every street and every corner, keeping his ears attentive for anyone who could call for help. The city didn’t even look that big from high above. He thought that, maybe, if he focused on his task and paid attention in what he was doing, he could just focus on keeping it safe.

Unfortunately, he had learned that ignoring a problem doesn’t make it go away. Despite everything he tried, the pain remained, and he had tried everything. Everything but asking his parents for help. Jon couldn’t bear making them worry even more.

Metropolis was right there under him, and that’s what he should be focusing on. He had lived in the city for only a few months, but in that time his father made sure he’d know Metropolis like the back of his hand, from Queensland to Bakerline, and from Park Ridge to Hell’s Gate. It’s funny, looking back he distinctly remembers not liking the idea of moving to the Big Apricot.

Well, it’s not like he hated the city, or even have a something against it in particular. Metropolis was great, his father would often talk about his young and how it was every young person’s dream to just the endless cornfields of Kansas and make it big. Los Angeles, New York, Metropolis. For a young reporter the call of the City of Tomorrow was irresistible. But that was his father’s dreams, and he wasn’t Clark Kent.

Clark Kent didn’t have to move to Metropolis until he wanted to, when he was much older than Jon was, with complete control of his senses. He never complained out loud, but the city was simply unbearable noisy. The cacophony of millions, all day every day, it was maddening. Despite knowing this, his parents still had gall to complain about his grades!

Grades. Noise. School. It felt like an eternity ago, his problems back then sounded so simple now. He was now a middle school dropout; he has to be Superboy twenty-four-seven and silence brings him dread.

Yet, not everything is bad. Metropolis seemed to be doing just fine without him today. He could afford a visit to New Troy, and Centennial Park by his father’s statue was as good as any. Looking at the large figure he couldn’t stop but remember how much shorter than his father he was, be he also knew there’s nothing to gain by dwelling on that.

Still, there he was, standing at the heart of Metropolis. Honestly, not the most comfortable feeling. It had been six years since he had last been there, yet everything looks exactly the same. He had been gone for half a decade, and this city didn’t have the decency to notice! Well, they were six years for him, but less than a month to everyone on Earth.

Deep down, he knew that was the reason why he so eagerly joined the Legion of Super-Heroes in the 32nd Century. Get away from this uncanny world that hadn’t changed while everything else had.

No. He had to stop; he couldn’t let these thoughts get the best of him. He was alive, that meant he could do something about it.

The people of Metropolis were clearly excited to see him. They had always been, but now they know where he lives and it seems to have made them more frenetic. Do they even know he was the same boy who was there only a few weeks ago? Did they think he was his uncle Conner? Unlikely. Metropolitans are very smart and used to all the meta-weirdness going around.

Hey!” A young woman shouted. She had her phone on her hands recording him. “You! You’re the Superboy, right!? Jon Kent?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“I knew it!” She said as she started to examine him. “So, aren’t you like ten or something?”

“Kinda.” He was embarrassed by her forwardness. If the anomaly that took him to that strange Earth hadn’t happened, he’d be eleven. Still, he was with the Legion of Super-Heroes when his father decided to tell the world about his identity, since then people have been very fond of disrespecting his personal space and privacy. To think he once had an argument with his parents where he wanted to tell the world that.

“So, is this Kryptonian puberty or….” Fortunately, she was interrupted. His phone rang. Since his father went public, he couldn’t have a phone anymore. Well, he could, only it would ring non-stop. This number was very special and only one robot had it.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. Stay safe, and remember to be kind.” He said, gesturing goodbye to the woman, and then launching himself off into the sky.

* * *

He loved the Fortress of Solitude. How could one not love it? You could spend time at the vivarium, watching creatures from all over the Universe; or you could see his father’s collection, objects he gathered over his years as Superman; above all his favorite was the vast collection of Kryptonian history and culture. His grades weren’t that good, true, but the story of this lost people, that he’s connected to, just felt larger than life. It was also eerie, knowing it is all gone. He also liked their games, that summer he was midway a Lordan Falls run. He can’t even remember what it was about.

Kelex, the Fortress robot custodian, had called him.

“Please tell me you found the source.” He asked the robot.

“Despite not having to spend time to scaring seagulls and curious sailors, I have not found the source of the anomaly.”

Kelex was not your typical service robot. His grandmother, Lara Lor-Van, had modified him, making him a fully fledged AI so he could be the custodian of the Kryptonian databases in case his grandfather couldn’t save the planet. His grandmother herself was a keeper of knowledge on Krypton.

“Why didn’t you tell dad that putting the Fortress in the middle of a busy shipping lane was a bad idea?” He laughed.

“I did!” The robot shook his little arms. “He didn’t listen!”

Part of the fortress had been destroyed in a fight in a fight against some generic alien monster. Even Kandor got hit. His heart ached a little knowing the last Kryptonian city had been harmed. Fortunately, half of the population had already been resurrected, but the other half was still under General Zod’s control. He was working with his cousin Kara to correct that.

“Then why did you call me?”

“I found someone.”

It was not the first time he had called him for that. He had requested Kelex to look for potential metahumans that could help with his body. Half a dozen dud attempts, why would this one be any different?

Still, his body was broken and he had to do something about it. Turns out being held in captivity for six years in a volcano away from sunlight being poorly fed will wreck a child’s body, human or Kryptonian. He was shorter than he should be, his joints ached. Impaired brain development is extremely dangerous when taking into account his powers.

He lied to his parents. And he got Kelex too, he asked the robot forge results of his medical exams. He should’ve asked for help, that’s what his parents will say when he gets it done, but right now he can’t bear to put them through even more stress. That’s what he told himself, deep down he knew he only wanted some agency back.

“I love you so much.” He patted the robot’s head.

“Who is it?”

“Her name is Yekaterina Demidova. People call her Night Witch, she’s World War II veteran. She’s a bit reclusive, but her skills on natural magic are considerable.”

“So, where can I find her?”

“She has last been sighted on the marshes of Eastern Europe.”

“Text me the details. I’m off to meet a swamp witch.”

* * *

Frankly, in his mind the process of finding a one-hundred-year-old witch in some Eastern European marshland would be a little more difficult. Fortunately for him, it seems this Night Witch wanted to be found. All he had to do was follow a flock of birds that had formed his family crest midair and follow them to an ominous hut. At least it didn’t have chicken legs.

“Hello?” He called out, knocking on the hut’s door. Did the witch even speak English? “Ma’am Demidova? Your birds brought me here.”

While magic wasn’t his forte, being Kryptonian and all, he had seen plenty of it. Being lured to a witch’s hut, one who seems to know he’s looking for her, didn’t sound like a bright plan. The part about the birds didn’t help, either. He’d think that was an average day of his life, but doing the math this average day would include more being tormented in a volcano.

“Is anyone there?” He knocked again. He didn’t even have time to consider whether or not he was knocking on the wrong witch’s hut before the door opened.

“Superboy.” The witch spoke.

Before being kidnapped by an evil version of his father, he had seen some weird stuff. Still, he had never thought about what a centenarian witch living a swamp would look like. An old crone with a pointy nose and bulging eyes? An impossibly beautiful young woman hiding a dark secret? She didn’t fit in neither description. Well, she was not ugly and looked like she was in her twenties, but in a “I haven’t aged in decades” way, not a “I gave myself magical cosmetic surgery”. Her outfit surprised him, far from rags made of swamp or even a military outfit, she was wearing a single button dress coat, gloves, block heels and a small hat slightly tilted to the right. She was fashionable, even if in an old-timey way.

“Ma’am Demidova?” He asked incredulous. “Uh, your birds they brought me here.”

“Not my birds.” She sounded stern. Did he find the right person?

Oh, I’m sorry. I must have knocked the wrong hut.”

“No. I sent the birds.” Her stare was scary, he knew she was paying close attention to him. “Come in.”

He had noticed the inside of the hut was suspiciously dark, but as soon as she crossed the door she just vanished. Well, he could only hope that, if the worst comes to be, she wasn’t a heat vision-proof witch.

So, he walked in. Now, where he ended up in is another matter entirely. Clearly, he was teleported somewhere else. Or was this one of those magic places that are bigger on the inside than the outside? In any case, the structure was a large wooden dome without internal walls, and it seemed to have been divided in four quadrants: a garden, with its own artificial mini sun; a study, with bookshelves and a table; a living space; and an empty sector. In the very center there was a dining table, by which the witch had was sitting by already.

“Have tea.” She pointed to the strange brass apparatus on the table. “Then sit.”

He did as she had told. He had to win her favor. He took the teapot on top of the contraption and poured some of the tea on a cup, she instructed him to dilute this concentrate with the hot water from the tap near its bottom. He took a seat.

“Were you expecting me?” He asked.

“No.”

“Then how did you know to send the birds?”

“You were looking for me.” She was the Night Witch after all. He just had to convince her to help him somehow.

“So, you know why I came here?”

“You want something.”

“Yes! Your help!” He spoke. “We can make a deal.”

“I don’t make deals.” She interrupted him, “Specially not with strangers.”

“Well, that’s not a problem. We can meet each other!”

For a second, her stern complexion gave in to a curious one. Did he get her intrigued? Good.

“Well, then, who are you and why do you need my help for?” Her inflection had changed. A full sentence, too. He also noticed her eyes flicked gold for a brief second.

“I am Superboy.”

“That I know.” She interrupted him; she had shifted back to stern mode.

He had to pique her interest again.

“I am Jonathan Kent; my dad is Superman.”

“Answer my question.” She interrupted him yet again.

“I’m in pain and I need your help with that.” Her eyes were sharp, he knew she was inspecting him. He could see her eyes flash gold.

“Why do you think I can help you with that?” She was curious. “Why did you seek me?”

“I’ve tried others before. I needed someone powerful.”

“What do you know about me, boy?”

“You were a Soviet aviator; your plane was shot down and you were taken for dead. An actual witch saved you and healed you, so you spent the last eighty years learning the arcane.” It was him who examined her now. “According to my sources, you’re one of the best.”

“Am I?” She laughed. “Why do you think I can help you?”

“Because you want to.” He looked her straight in the eyes. “You wouldn’t send the birds otherwise.”

“Child, I can do more than repair bones and muscles. Pay the price, and I can give back the years stolen from your body.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, yes I'm deaging him. I know it sounds contradictory after what I put in the beginning and I actually thought a lot about it. I was going to challenge myself to write an adult Jon, and maybe wait a little bit, but after I got more of a gist of what PKJ plans, I decide to deage him sooner so I don't get influenced by whatever he writes. And it also makes my job easier since I think I have more ideas for a young Jon than adult Jon for now.  
> I had written the chapter and had to rewrite to account for my new creative decisions.  
> For this new chapter, and the premise for what will be a running theme for the time being, the biggest retcon is that Jon stay on Earth-3 had actual consequences, both psychic and physical.


	2. The Boy of Steel #2: Flux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Night Witch names her price, and to pay it Jon will have to face a deadly enemy! Will he be able to defeat this foe in his weakened form so he may restore some normalcy in his life?

The witch’s words had entered his ears, but his brain was reluctant to give them any credit. It was not in his nature to be excessively skeptical, and his heart wanted to believe her truly, but from the moment had set foot on Earth after years of torment under Ultraman, when he noticed that mere weeks had passed and the cruel joke the cosmos played on him, he had tried to erase time and return to normalcy. Nothing had worked and all that was left was incredulity.

He had searched in science, Human and alien, but no solution was found. During his adventures in the 32nd century he asked if they had the means to help, but they were just as clueless. Indeed, he had tried magic even before this Night Witch, but the magicians had no answer. Well, not exactly true, when he met Tim Hunter the young sorcerer warned him that something unknown was actively preventing him from setting things back to normal, prompting him to seek Dr. Occult for help, the detective had promised to look into it, but there has been no progress so far.

Still, he had to find out. Even if she’s lying, or trying to fool him, he had to try it, because even if the chance she’s right is minuscule it’s better than doing nothing. It was not a choice. What could this witch do that none other could? He wasn’t sure, but he had to find out. He had to know what she wanted, and Rao be radiant so may desperation not blind him.

“There’s always price.” He sighed. He tried to read her, she looked stern, but not malicious. “And you said you don’t make deals.”

“All magic has a cost.” She spoke as if it was the most self-evident truth. “There’s no bargaining with reality. The study of magic requires research, practice and experimentation, but all of that is dead without the resolve to undertake the required sacrifices.”

“Sure, sure.” Well, that speech is in no way reassuring. “Do I have to sacrifice a newborn or something? If so, no, thank you.”

“No.” She sounded annoyed by his ignorance. “The sacrifice is personal.”

“About that.” He had to show confidence, even if he didn’t have a choice. A lesson he had learned in his personal hell, the appearance of strength might be as valuable as strength itself. “You talk about sacrifice, yet I know you claim to be able to do the impossible. How can I be sure you’re not tricking me?”

“You can’t be.” She smiled, she seemed to have fun playing with his head. Her eyes flashed gold again. “The others you have sought lacked my perspective, but know it won’t be easy.”

“Or cheap, I assume. Tell then, what do you want from me?”

“What do I want from you?” She laughed, somehow that was stranger than the blunt lines. “What could you possibly have that I’d want? No, boy, the power has its price, not my generosity.”

“Generosity?” What even is her game? He was absolutely lost. “If you want to help me, why be so cryptic and harsh?”

“That’s how I am. I merely test your resolve.” She said as a bird landed on her shoulder, the creature was staring at him.

Frankly, he was tired of this back and forth. Either she could help him or not, and delaying it won’t help anyone. “Just tell me what do I need for this spell.”

“The first requirement is your understanding.” She spoke in a serious tone. “I have seen countless futures, know that if you go through this, you’ll set events in motion, events that may put you in unfortunate situations.”

She’s a precog. That explains how she knew he was coming, along other things. “Then nothing will change, I can’t see the future, every action I take may have consequences I can’t predict. I’ll take the risks.”

She studied his face again. “Very well. Then, you must know that, if you let me perform my magic on you, we will meet again, for good or ill.”

“If you deliver on your promise, I’ll count you as a friend. I don’t count seeing my friends as a sacrifice.”

She seemed distraught by those words. He liked to think it was due to the promise of friendship.

“Well then, Lastly, you’ll have to procure an item.”

He knew it was sounding too easy. What’s a magician without their baubles and fetch quests? It doesn’t matter, he’d do it. “Sure, what do you need and where can I fetch it?”

“You won’t just ‘fetch’, you’ll have to fight for it.” She smiled, and the bird flew to his shoulder. “You’ll need the tongs once used by an old Smith-God, they contain some of the power of Svarog.”

Good, dealing with relics of the old gods. Damian was always trying to convince him they should sneak in Themyscira’s weaponry, but he knew better than to get involved with that. Not like he had a choice. “And where can I find those?”

“A kikimora stumbled upon it. Are you familiar with kikimory?”

“Can’t say I am.”

“Good. They are sorry creatures, she’ll be unwilling to part ways with it. They also particularly enjoy young men’s flesh.” She laughed. “This once lives in the swamps, the bird will lead you in the right direction.”

Evil creature, wants to eat him and he needs an item. He knew it was a fetch quest. The sooner he goes, the fast he can get back.

“Wait.” The witch stopped him, handing him a small pouch. With his powers, he was able to see that the insides: salt and a coin. “Don’t say I didn’t help.”

With that, he was ready to follow the bird.

* * *

He was aware that finding Miss Demidova in a matter of minutes was lucky, after all she was expecting him and sent him her bird escorts. This kikimora, on the other hand, was not so easy. Even with his powers and speed he had spend days scouting deeper and deeper in Russia, only signaling his parents that he was alright from time to time. Funny how they were far more permissible with him now after the he came back.

Still, this errand sucked. His bones ached and he wasn’t even sure the bird was doing its job right. He even thought the witch had sent him in a snipe hunt until he found the fog.

Of course he had seen fog before, and that just reinforced that this one was not natural. Obviously magical, as he was grounded the moment he stepped in, and his speed was also very diminished. He really hoped he would just curb stomp this swamp creature, the sooner he got away from this dreadful smell the better. The nature of the fog, the fact it was localized and the bird had flown away gave him hopes that the kikimora was nearby.

“Выходи, молодец. Твоя кровь сотворит чудеса с моим пивом!”

He heard her, she sounded like chicken clucking words. At least he hoped it was her, it was like a whisper, or even as if the fog itself had spoken. He couldn’t pinpoint where she was, nor he understood what she said. The magic fog prevented him from using his x-ray vision to locate the creature, he had to keep moving.

“Экзотическое мясо!”

He felt sharp claws slash his back. The pain was burning, she had magic in her claws. The creature had drawn first blood. He’d heal a little or at least not bleed to death at least. The worst part is that he didn’t even see the kikimora, was she hiding in the fog? He tried to blow the fog away with his super breath, but as he suspected it filled back the air immediately. He had to focus.

He felt a change in fog right next to his face, giving him only enough time to put his arm to protect his head. Like his back, the pain was searing. Was she in the fog, or was she the fog?

He heard movement this time. He was adjusting to the sense deprivation; she was coming from the left and for very little he managed to dodge her attack. He also managed to take a peek at her. Honestly, he expected some kind of bog spider or mist spirit but she looked like a woman. Like a woman, but wrong. Her eyes were too far apart, almost on the side of the face, her nose was also inhumanly pointy, almost like a beak, but above all, on the tie of the veil that covered her matter hair there were metal grips. It had to be the tongs of Svarog.

“I just need the tongs. Give me them and I’ll leave.” He didn’t expect her to accept it, or even understand him. Not only because she was a man-eating evil chicken-woman, but because he was, after all, an invader that came to rob her. Doesn’t matter, he had to try at least.

He could see her gearing for another attack, but even still she was too fast. A slash across his chest, the fiery pain adding to that of his back, arms and, of course, malformed bones. It was not all lost, however, the creature had hit the pouch the witch gave him with the salt spilling on the kikimora’s body and the coin falling to the ground.

“Мой муж, помогите!” The creature screeched in pain.

Her weakness was salt? How banal, at least Kryptonians only have to deal with a radioactive rock that will eventually give cancer to humans too. Even so, he wished the witch could just have been straightforward, he could’ve salted the fog from above if he knew. He picked up the coin, assuming it was also a weakness.

The salt also seemed to have slowed her down, he could keep her eyes on her, even if he was hurt and the magic was messing with his powers. It was his chance, take the tongs and run as fast as he could. He ran as fast as he could, tackling the creature. He was ready to take the tongs, until he felt a dull pain.

Something had hit him from behind, launching him several feet forwards. He couldn’t fly to halt his trajectory, a tree did that for him. The salt seemed to have weakened the kikimora’s magic, even if a little bit, as the fog was not as intense as before. Standing next to the creature there was a mass of plant matter helping her get up.

“Alec!?” He screamed at the being.

It caught his attention, but he just melted into the ground, before he could even see plant matter was pining him to the ground. Looking at the second creature, it was obvious he was no Swamp Thing. This plant being kept him on the ground, with moss and leaves covering his nose and mouth.

Monster. Monster. “You’ll call me father.” He remembered the red eyes glowing; he was in the volcano again. “You’ll obey me.” Monster. Monster. “You’re not his. You’re mine, always has been. He made you weak, you’re better than them, I made you better than them.” The monster was his father, pining him to the ground. It was not his father. It was his father. He was suffocating, he didn’t know what was happening. His eyes ignited.

He could breathe again, the smell of ozone and burnt wood filled his nostrils. He couldn’t even feel the pain anymore, he was angry, confused and sad at the same time. What did he do? Did he kill the creature? He didn’t intend to. The mass of plants fell to the ground non-animated. Still, he had no time to even consider what happened before the kikimora sprang to slash him again, he managed to roll and dodge.

He had to finish it fast. With super breath, he blew the female creature far back, freeing in him to get up. With the weaker fog, he was able to move faster, but that doesn’t mean the kikimora wasn’t still fast. She dashed towards him, so with his breath he sent a mass of cold air towards her. The breath froze the fog, pelting ice shards on her direction. They didn’t reach her, however, as a mass of plant matter rose from the ground to absorb the attack.

The elemental was alive. Thank goodness, that also meant he could get more serious. With his laser vision, he started charring the plant matter. It was damp, but it just made the water expand fast in steam form. How do you stop a creature made of plant? Before he could think, the kikimora sneaked behind him with another slash to the back. He couldn’t take another hit; the pain was unbearable. He ran as fast as he could, freezing the ground and taking down the trees, charring them, while dodging the kikimora and keeping the elemental down. He was in control now, and when the elemental couldn’t form anywhere close to him anymore, he took the coin and threw at the kikimora so fast it was closer to a bullet, hitting the creature on the knee.

It had worked, she was alive, but immobilized. The fog also had dissipated, meaning his powers would get stronger. He was beaten, slashed and bloodied, but he had won. As he approached her, he thought what he would do. She was an obvious dangerous creature, if he would only finish her the nearby townsfolk would have him as a hero, she no doubt had caused many of their people to disappear. He kneeled by the chicken-woman.

“I don’t know if you understand me, but listen carefully.” He pulled the metal tongs from her veil. “You’ll not hunt humans anymore. I’ll have someone pick you up, but if I ever hear you got free, hope that I find you before someone like Pozhar.”

It was done, he had time to meet the witch again.

* * *

The trip back to the witch’s hut took only a few minutes, the bird had returned when the fog dissipated and guided him. The hut was in another location, too, but that didn’t surprise him. This time, she was waiting for him outside.

“You’ve returned.” She looked at him, in his bloodied state. “Facing a kikimora and a leshiy is impressive, even for an alien princeling.”

He was too tired for her games. “Did you know about the other creature?”

“Kikimora and leshiy are mates.”

He’d have appreciated the info beforehand, but it doesn’t matter anymore. He showed her the tongs he had acquired in the fight.

“I see. We may proceed.”

“Not yet.” He interrupted her. “Your kikimora friend is back in the swamp, with the coin in her knee. Take her to a magical jail before the townsfolk lynch her or something.”

“Do you show compassion towards man-eating monsters?”

“I can’t say I am fond of her, but it’s not my place to decide who lives or who dies.” He sighed. “My powers let me always have another option, and I’ve had my fill of those who believe their power puts them above the rest.”

The witch looked at his face, then she snapped her fingers. “Very well, it’s done. We may proceed now.”

“I’m ready.”

“Not here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Magic like this requires power.” She smiled. “I’ll forge you in the Sun.”


End file.
